as out of sight, and I never
again saw one of the five gentry who had introduced us to the
whole proceedings.

Then my friend the engine-driver found time to be a little curious.

"What'n hell?" he asked, in the _lingua franca_ that all Indians
are supposed to understand.

So I answered him in the mother argot at a venture, and he bit.

"There's a man down the line a piece who'll blow your train to
hell," said I, "unless you pull up when he flags you."

"Son of a gun, eh?"

"Sure bet!"

"Where you learn English?"

"States," said I. "You been there too?"

"Sure pop! Goin' back some time."

"Not if you don't stop her when you get the hint, you won't. That
guy down there ahead means business."

I don't think he would have dared try to run the gauntlet in any
case, for the best the engine could do with that load behind it
was a wheezy twenty miles an hour, and the track was so out of
repair that even that speed wasn't safe. I was willing to bet
Grim hadn't lifted a rail or placed any obstruction in the way,
but the driver had no means of knowing that.

"Son of a gun, eh?" he repeated. "What in 'ell's 'e want?"

"Nothing, if you pay attention to him. All he hankers for is
humoring. He wants to talk."

"Uh! What in 'ell's a matter with him?"

"Nothing, but he'll put a crimp in your machinery unless you stay
and chin with him."

"I give him dry steam. He'll run like the devil."

"Don't you believe it. He's wise. Better humor him."

"Shucks! I shoot him. I shot lots o' men."

"No need to shoot," said I. "This is love stuff. He's got a lady
in the last car."

"Oh, gal on the train, eh? All right. You climb back along the
cars an' kick her off soon as you see him."

"Gosh! I'd sooner kick a nest of hornets!"

"You her brother?"

"Not so's you'd notice it."

"What then?"

"She's got my gun. Barring that we're not real close related."

"Uh! Those damned Bedouin fellers can't shoot for nuts. Let 'em
fire away. I take a chance."

"Ever hear of Ali Higg?" I asked him.

He turned his head from peering down the blistering hot track,
wiped the sweat from his face and hands with a filthy rag, and
looked at me keenly.

"Why? You know him?"

"Yes. I asked if you do."

"Son of a gun! Him and me--same father!"

"You mean he's your brother?"

He nodded.

"He's the man you've got to pull up for."

"His gal on the train?"

"Sure thing."

He resumed his vigil, leaning over the side of the engi